


A Prince for Christmas

by Luthorchickv2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Prince au, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: A Sterek AU of a Christmas Prince. Stiles has one chance to make it at the magazine where he works. He is sent to cover either the coronation or abdication of Derek, Crown Prince of Beaconia and ends up staying at the palace under false pretenses. Queen Talia finds him amusing, Princess Laura is angry and suspicious, Prince Derek makes his heart pound and Cora is worse at staying out of trouble than he is.





	1. A Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a au of A Christmas Prince which I watched, and said I can fix it! A year later here it is.  Like A Christmas Prince this is a sort of fairy tale and requires some suspension of disbelief. Petersburg is based on my limited experience of Bruges, Belgium. 
> 
> Cora and Stiles are bros. 
> 
> The Sheriff’s name is John. 
> 
> Lots of cursing, like not Deadpool levels but a few f-bombs.
> 
> Peter is Derek’s father’s brother. Sorry canon!
> 
> Brief discussion of WWII and the Holocaust.  
> 
> This is mostly done. I'm just polishing now. 
> 
> This is by far the longest thing I have written and am so proud of it. Comments are treasured!

                                                             

 

Part 1. A Chance. San Francisco, December 15. 

"Blinski!" Stiles jerked away from his computer screen and blinked at the figure standing by his desk. Jackson Whittemore stood in front of him, huffing. 

"Jackson." Stiles tilted his head wondering what Jackson wanted now. Jackson was a feature reporter at Inspire, the magazine they both worked at and where Stiles, despite his best efforts (okay the water cooler explosion wasn't entirely his fault) couldn't seem to get beyond the copy desk.  

"Where's the final copy of my Mayor’s holiday party coverage?" Jackson demanded.

Stiles restrained himself from rolling his eyes. If he rolled his eyes every time Jackson was a demanding shit, his eyes would fall out of his head. 

"You sent it to me less than 40 minutes ago. You'll get it tomorrow."

Jackson leaned over the partition of Stiles desk. "Well, Lydia wants it tonight. Do it!"  He spat. 

Stiles leaned right back, putting himself inside Jackson's personal space. 

"You have quotes from people who weren't there and spend 300 of the 500 word allotment describing the female celebrity guests’ figures. This doesn't just need an edit, it needs a whole rewrite. I will have it for you in the morning." He stopped before he added 'you over rated waste of the English language’.

Jackson went beet red and opened his mouth to shout when an icy voice interrupted. 

"Jackson, if you don't stop using copy editors to re-write your articles, the only slip you'll see will be pink."

Jackson spun around to see Inspire’s owner and chief editor, Lydia Martin standing behind him and started to sputter. 

Lydia raised her hand to stop him and glanced at Stiles. "Stilinski, my office, now." 

Stiles popped up and followed her up the stairs into her well appointed office, dread in his stomach. He couldn’t lose this job. This was his big break into actual journalism and not just blogging. A couple years working here and he could go anywhere.  

Inspire Magazine had started as a weekly ladies’ magazine in the 1950's by Angela Martin and had focused on fashion and household tips. The magazine had survived the changing times but the circulation had been decreasing steadily since the 80’s. The magazine had been on the verge of collapse when Angela died.  

Lydia Martin had stormed through her undergraduate career pursuing a degree in mathematics, when her aunt died leaving her the failing magazine. Lydia had rolled up her sleeves and turned Inspire into a modern periodical full of current events and fashion. Articles about being a female combat soldier ran side by side with articles about fall color trends mixed in with political commentary and advice on birth control. 

In a year Lydia had turned Inspire into a relevant tool for the modern young person and it became a place where everyone wanted to work. She was ruthless but fair.

Lydia sat behind her desk and gestured for Stiles to sit as well. "How long have you been with us, Mieczyslaw Stilinski?"

Stiles wasn't surprised but her perfect pronunciation of his rather unwieldy first name. "Stiles, Ms. Martin."

Lydia wrinkled her nose. "What is a Siles?"

Stiles looked down and shifted in his seat. "I am, I'm Stiles". 

She hummed. "I see. Stiles, then. How long have you been with us?”

"Eight months on the copy desk." Which wasn’t a long time but he wanted more. He was tired of rewriting Jackson’s articles. He wanted to write his own, see his own name on the byline. He wanted to write. 

She pursed her lips. "And before that?"

"I graduated from Berkeley in two years ago this spring with a degree in Journalism."

"Why the gap?” She dug. 

Stiles shifted. 

“My father was shot in the line of duty. He’s a sheriff in a small town just north of here. His recovery was difficult and I moved home to care for him during my senior year.” He did not add that he had supplemented his income by selling term papers online. “I was able to move back to San Francisco about a little less than a year ago when I got hired here.”  He tried to rein in his tendency to ramble. 

“Hmm.” Lydia eyed him drumming her fingers on her desk. 

She then opened her desk and removed a folder. “Three months ago, Jackson’s articles started getting better. I kept him on staff because he isn’t without his talents but writing isn’t one of them, as much as he likes to see his name in print. So I was surprised when his articles needed less.” She paused. “polishing.”

“I’ve been watching you, Stiles. You are hungry, and talented and you don’t throw people under a bus when it suits you. You could have complained at any point that Jackson was making you do his work but you didn’t.”

Stiles relaxed minutely. It didn’t sound like she was going to fire him. 

“I can give you a chance, just one, to prove yourself.” She handed him the folder. “I was going to send Jackson but he hasn’t shown he deserves to go.”

Inside was a press pass with his name on it, and a dossier on the Royal family of Beaconia, the Hales. Beaconia was a small European country wedged between Germany and Denmark that had survived the 20th century, monarchy intact. The Hale family had ruled Beaconia for almost 500 years. They had stood against the Germans in World War One but, like Denmark, had been occupied by the Nazi’s in World War Two. King Peter III had allowed the Nazis in, all the while helping to smuggle Jews out of Germany and weapons in to the resistance. His government had been writing false papers for Jewish families right up until the German tanks rolled in. After the war it was discovered that he had sheltered dozens of Jewish families in the cellars of the royal family’s winter palace.

“I’m sending you to cover either the coronation or abdication of Crown Prince Derek.   
His father, King Richard, unexpectedly died of heart attack just before last Christmas. The Queen became Regent while Derek was given a year to finish graduate school and have some semblance of freedom before taking the throne this year. Word is, he doesn’t want the throne. His older sister, Laura, was always the King’s favorite but the Beaconia crown must pass to a male heir. Derek will either ascend to the throne or abdicate, for his Uncle Peter, the late king’s younger brother. Either way, it should make for an interesting article. The grieving son who puts honor and duty above his own happiness, or the son who abandons his duty and gives it all up.”

“He must be crowned or abdicate by Christmas Day. There will be a press conference on the 19th. Your flight leaves tomorrow. I want deep background too. See if you can get close to the palace staff.”

Stiles opened his mouth to object. He had never been away from his father for Christmas. 

“Stiles, this is your one chance, do you want it or not?” Lydia held out her hand for the folder. 

Stiles swallowed. His dad would understand, hopefully.

“Yes, I’ll go.”

Lydia grinned sharply. “Good. Now why are you still here?” 

Stiles stumbled to his feet and did an awkward half salute. He was going to Beaconia.       

******  
“Hey Dad!” Stiles jammed his cell he between his ear and shoulder as he tried to figure which shirts were appropriate to wear to a royal press conference. 

“Hey, Kiddo! Aren’t you supposed to be a work?” 

Stiles decided the blue button down was more professional but the white was less likely to be a wrinkled mess and tossed both in his suitcase. The magazine was paying an luggage fees so he could boy scout it. 

“I got a special assignment, actually. My first real story.” He eyed his blazers and sided on a plain black one.  

“Congratulations!  What kind of story? We’ll have to go out to celebrate when you get home this weekend.” Even over the phone Stiles could tell the sheriff was smiling. 

Stiles winced.  “About that.” He didn’t want to tell his dad he wouldn’t be there but he had too. 

“Stiles?” His dad asked. 

“I was assigned to cover the kingdom of Beaconia’s press conference and coronation of the new king, or, his abdication, there seems to be some doubt if he will actually ascend or let his uncle rule.” Stiles rushed through the sentence. 

“That’s quite a first story. Is the magazine paying for travel expenses?” 

“Oh yeah! I mean coach seats but still!” He was just lucky his passport was still valid from when he was supposed to go abroad senior year. 

The sheriff hummed. “When do you leave and get back?”

Stole zipped his suitcase and leaned on it. 

“Well, funny story, I’m actually flying out tomorrow morning.”

“That’s very short notice.” The sheriff’s voice was neutral. 

“Well, Jackson was supposed to go but he’s a tool and annoyed the editor so she assigned me.” Stiles played with the suitcase handle. 

“That’s good for you.” The sheriff’s voice was still hesitant. 

“Yeah.”

“When do you get back?”

Stiles huffed. “About that. The crown prince has until Christmas Eve to decide if he will take the throne. And the coronation would be Christmas Day.” 

The sheriff was silent. 

“I know that this means we won’t be able to do Christmas together, and it will be the first time since mom died and I almost turned it down for that reason but I don’t know when another break like this will happen. I don’t want to be on the copy desk forever. We can skype and Melissa said she’d come over to keep you company. Please be okay with this, please.” He slid down onto his floor back against the bed. 

John sighed. “Stiles, it’s okay. I’ll miss you but we can do Christmas and New Years together. Take this opportunity and show them how you shine. You deserve it.” 

“Really? Thank you!” Stiles exclaimed into the phone, flailing. 

“This will be a great experience for you. You need to live your life. As much as I want you to be here, you are 23 and I get it. I’m excited for you”

“I’m so excited, Dad” He sighed into the phone. 

“You should be. Take pictures, send a postcard and you better Skype.” 

“I will, I promise.” 

“And who knows, you might meet a handsome prince and live happily ever after.”  
There was laughter in the sheriff’s voice.  

Stiles snorted. “Dad, I’m as likely to live happily ever with the Crown Prince as I am to live happily ever after with Jackson.”


	2. The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spills coffee and the handosmest but frumpiest man he has ever seen but also makes a friend on the flight. Net positive, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are treasured.

Part 2. The Flight. December 16-17

The first leg of his trip was uneventful. He had a flight to New York, JFK, before getting on a flight to Beaconia. He had been excited to see the New York City skyline and wished he had time to go exploring. JFK was huge and he was dismayed to see that due to a backup of planes trying to get to their gates he was now running late to his flight to Beaconia.

“Fuck.” He panted weaving around people at a run, trying to make it.

“Now boarding Beacon Airlines flight 762 to Petersburg, Beaconia.” Rang out over the PA system.

“Shit!” He put on a burst of speed rounding a corner and ran into what felt like a brick wall.

“Fuck!” He yelped from the floor, staring up at an obstacle and his breath caught.

There was the most beautiful man Stiles had ever seen, holding a smashed coffee cup and frowning furiously. He was tall, with raven black hair and built like a super-hero. His cheekbones were sharp and a black beard framed his full lips. He was wearing black sunglasses (Seriously who did, inside?) so Stiles couldn’t see his eyes but he bet they were breathtaking. His tight blue tee shirt, now covered with a coffee stain, clung to his chest and Stiles was dying to see if his abs were as nice as they seemed. 

Stiles was in lust.

“Watch where you are going, idiot!” The man’s voice was slightly accented.

The words jolted Stiles out of his stupor and he scrambled up.

“Oh god, I am so sorry, man.” He tried to reach out and wipe the coffee off of the man. The man hurriedly stepped back.

“Don’t. You’ll make it worse.” He was frowning even worse and his tone implied negative things about Stiles’ intelligence.

Stiles frowned back. “It was accident. I’m running super late for my flight.”

The man huffed. “So am I but you don’t see me careening through the airport like a spastic baby horse, spilling people’s coffee.”

“Hey! It was an accident and I said sorry. No need for insults.” Stiles picked his bag up from the floor. It was covered in coffee.

“Shit!” His laptop! He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled 10-dollar bill. He didn’t have anything smaller.

“Here. Buy yourself another coffee and a better attitude.” With that he spun around looking for the closest restroom and dashed, leaving the asshole behind him.

He had just enough time to dry off his laptop before running again for the gate.

The gate attendants were just about to close the door when Stiles skidded to a halt in front of them.

“Wait, I’m here!” He thrust his boarding pass and passport at them.

“Just in time!” The woman smiled at him. “Down the ramp!”

Stiles cantered down the ramp and hopped into the plane, waved on by the flight attendant.

“I’m here!” He panted, grinning at her. She smiled back and looked at his boarding pass. “20B. Head straight back on the left aisle.”

Stiles nodded. “Thanks!” And just as he went to walk down the aisle he saw in first class, the man who he had spilled coffee on. “Great. Wonderful. He could have paid for a replacement himself.” Stiles muttered as he through himself into his seat. He was glad to see that his seat was one of two and that he wasn’t in one of the four seats in the middle. The was a girl a little younger than him in the window seat, staring at the tarmac like it held the answers to the universe.

“What?” At his mutter she turned to stare at him.

Stiles buckled up and wave a hand at her. “I’m sorry. Nothing. I ran into a rude jerk on my way to the plane and it turns out he’s on this flight in first class. There is no justice.”

She grinned. “Nope. None.” She turned back to the window as the plane pulled away from the gate and the flight attendants started their inflight demonstrations.

Stiles jiggled his leg and tried not to think about the odds of surviving a crash.

“If you don’t stop shaking your leg I will tear if off and turn it into a lamp.” The girl said, without facing him.

“Nice A Christmas Story reference, though you’d regret it. My legs don’t look good in fishnets and heels though. I tried. I’ll stop” He stopped his leg.

She turned to look at him. “You tried?” She arched a brow at him.

“Junior year of college. We did Midnight Rocky Horror for Halloween. I wanted to go as Frank-N-Furter. It wasn’t pretty.”

She snorted. “You have the frame for it.”

Stiles shrugged. “But no balance, I almost broke my ankle 3 times before my best friend forced me out of the heels. We ended up at Target so I could get flip flops and I tore the fishnets before we even got to the theater.”

“It’s a skill. I almost broke something learning to waltz in heels.” She acknowledged.

“Right? I have so much respect for my boss. She wears 4 inch heels everyday without even a bobble.”

He gripped the armrest as the plane sped up before slowing back down.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m so sorry I promise I will hold it together.” He babbled.

“You better. I refuse to deal with your jitters for 8 hours.”

“I’m fine once we get up but I read way too much about planes and stats and ways to crash…”

“Stop. Breathe.” She held up a hand. “You are a bit of a hot mess, aren’t you.” She noted.

“The hottest mess.” He agreed, gripping the arm rest as the plane sped down the runway and took off.

He breathed through the anxiety as the plane rose. His seatmate turned back to the window and he could see the bright lights of New York fading away.

“So what do you do?” She asked once the plane leveled out.

Stiles released the breath he was holding.

“I’m a journalist.” He didn’t notice as she froze.

“Actually. I’m on my way to Beaconia to cover the press conference and coronation. I was languishing on the copy desk and my boss chose this as my first assignment.”

“So you follow the royal family?” This time he could hear the scorn in her voice.

“I couldn’t pick them out of a crowd. I have a dossier somewhere that I am supposed to be studying but I’ve been too unfocused to study it.”

“Really?” She sneered, tucking part of her long brown hair behind her ear. 

“Why would I lie about that? I don’t care who sits on the throne only how I can write about it. The royal family are just people. I bet they shit the same as all of us.” He paused. “I only want to do a good job so my boss doesn’t send me back to the copy desk. I’m not there to cover scandal or personal shit, just the change in leadership. I mean I’d love to interview someone for a profile but that’s never going to happen. I’m sorry, are you from Beaconia? Did I deeply offend you by saying that the royals are just people?”

She was staring at him in a way he didn’t understand. “No, no you didn’t. Mostly people don’t understand that.” She smiled, slowly and held out her hand. “My name is Cora.”

He took it and shook. “Call me Stiles, and actually I’m annoyed. Because of the timing, I won’t be spending Christmas at home with my Dad for the first time ever. It’s the first time either of us will have it alone since my mom died when I was a kid. My boss was all like ‘this is your only chance, don’t fuck it up’ and I’m like um the holidays are for family?”

She looked sad. “I know how that is. This is my second Christmas without my Father.”

He patted her hand. “It sucks balls. I’d like to say it gets better, I mean it does, but you will always feel the absence.”

“No one’s been honest enough to say that to me. Everyone is all ‘Give it time’ but its hard.”

“So hard. I want to punch people sometimes when they talk about their holiday plans and bitch about their moms. I mean you don’t know everyone’s relationship but I would give everything to spend a hour with my mom.”

“My relationship with my father wasn’t perfect, he didn’t approve of some of my choices but I loved him.” She said.

“Yeah. Okay, enough, sad talk. Magical subject change!” He floundered around for a subject while Cora laughed.

“So the jerk you ran into.” She prodded.

“Oh my god. Like look. It was mostly my fault but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. I was running for the plane, turned a corner and slammed into him. I bounced off of him and landed on the floor. I did crush his cup of coffee but I apologized and tried to wipe the coffee off of him and I’m the one that ended up on the floor! He called me an idiot, a spastic baby horse and my bag got covered in coffee. I threw a ten at him so he could get a replacement coffee and better attitude but he’s in first class so I might as well have kept it. You know the worst part?”

She shook her head. “I mean aside from the lost ten bucks? He was the handsomest man I have ever seen. Jesus, the cheek bones on him. I would have fallen on my knees for him in a second, well maybe if he weren’t an ass, but evens that’s debatable.”

“Stiles!” She yelped.

“Sorry, did I offend you?” He asked concerned. He didn’t actually know what Beaconia’s attitude towards the queer community.

“No. I just wasn’t expecting you to be that graphic.” Cora giggled.

“Eh. It’s true, though.” Stiles hummed in appreciation.

She paused. “Maybe he was just having an off day and is a super nice guy.”

Stiles waved her off. “Whatever, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. So let’s talk Christmas movies.”

By the time the plane landed in Petersburg, Cora and Stiles had become buddies. They had bonded over a shared love of Die Hard as a Christmas movie, a shared love of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and a loathing of the saccharine Hallmark channel and Netflix Christmas specials. They had then had a rigorous DC/MCU discussion where they agreed to disagree. Stiles learned that Cora was attending NYU against the wishes of her family and hadn’t really spoken with them since leaving for school in August.

“My older sister is perfect, you know? Always does the right thing, says the right thing, never put so much as a toe out of place. My father loved all of us but it was pretty clear she was his favorite. My older brother was being groomed to take over the family business so what was there for me to do? I could never match either of them so I rebelled. My mother wanted me to go to a program in Switzerland, get some ‘polish’ but I applied to NYU instead and instead of getting on a plane to Geneva I got on one to New York.”

“My best friend Scott, his wife did something similar. Alison’s parents had her life planned out for her from when she was a kid. She was going to be an Olympic gold medalist in archery with corporate sponsors and so on. She followed along until she met Scott and it was love at first sight for both. And man wasn’t that fun to watch. Bumbling puppies, both of them. But a half Mexican boyfriend wasn’t in the plan and her parents objected strenuously. So when she turned 18 she said fuck it and hasn’t turned back. She and Scott now are married with a kid and she’s never been happier. She teaches history and coaches the archery team. She has no regrets.”

“I’m not saying to tell your family to fuck off but you do you. It’s your life, you need to be happily.” Stiles smiled goofily at her. “And that was your moment of zen wisdom brought to you by way too much caffeine.” He held up his empty coke can.

She snickered. “You, Stiles, are one in a million.”

He raised a finger “But one in a million what, is the question.”

He had shared with her his abject terror when he thought he would lose his dad and how that derailed his career plans.

“I mean my school let me finished from home and it was worth it to stay home with him. I would never had done otherwise but the medical bills kept mounting up and while he’s better and back on the job, the year of recovery took its toll on us. That’s why this chance is so important to me both in furthering my career but also because I can finally really start paying the bills off. I mean I can’t complain, not really, we never went hungry and we still have the house. There are people worst off.”

She reached over and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 

When the plane landed it felt like saying goodbye to a friend. Stiles had said goodbye to Cora at baggage claim. They didn’t exchange numbers or anything and Stiles wasn’t sure he would see her again but he was grateful for the connection. He had joined the taxi line and she had dashed off somewhere.

The line at the taxi stand was so long it wrapped around the parking lot. Stiles blew into his hands to try to warm them. He knew Beaconia would be cold but he wasn’t expecting the wind which cut right through his coat. At least it wasn’t snowing.

He was the last one in line and nearly groaned in relief when a cab pulled up. He couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and crash. The press conference was tomorrow and he had just enough time for a nap and to study the dossier.

He nodded to the driver and move to open the trunk when some asshole jumped into his car.

“Hey! That’s my cab! I waited.” Stiles hollered as the door slammed shut. The window rolled down to reveal the asshole who he had spilled coffee on. “Consider a trade for my dry cleaning bill.” The man snarked and the cab took off.

“You unmitigated asshole!” Stiles shouted, ignoring the people staring at him.

“He is!” He pointed and grunted in frustration.

“Stiles?” He lifted his head and saw Cora next to black car.

“That asshole from before stole my cab!” He gesticulated in the direction of the fading cab lights.

“That was a dick move.” She agreed. “Come on. My family sent a car for me. I’ll drop you in town.”

Stiles squinted. “I should argue but I’m too tired. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just want you to know that we all aren’t like that.”

Stiles shook his head. “Jesus, what an ass.”

“Like I said before. Maybe it’s just a bad day for him.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. I just want to get to the hotel and take a nap.”

“And write?” Cora asked, cautiously.

“Nah. Nothing to write about yet.”

He stared out the window as the car pulled onto highway. “It’s beautiful here. The woods remind me of home.”

“San Francesco has forests?”

“I meant where I grew up. I used to race around the forests there for hours with Scott.” He trailed a finger through the fog on the glass.

“If you were to walk straight through forest here you would hit the coast and the North Sea. It never really gets warm enough to sunbathe but there are some great beaches for walking.” Cora said, pointing out the window. 

A few minutes later the car pulled off the highway and turned onto a main road which went up a hill. When they got to the top of the hill Stiles gasped.

In front of Stiles down the hill lay the picturesque city of Petersburg.

“It used to be called Nordstedt but it was renamed after World War II, after King Peter the III.” Cora said.

“Its beautiful, like a fairy tale.” Stiles breathed. The city maintained it’s medieval roots and had escaped the worst of the bombing from the war.

There was a huge cathedral like building in the middle and the city radiated out like spokes, bisected by a canal, and spread to the North Sea.

“I never get tired of this view.” Cora said happily. “That’s Parliament there in the middle. It used to be a huge catholic cathedral but it was taken over by government during the Reformation. The Royal Palace is at the other end of the city by the ocean.”

“I don’t know how anyone could live here. I would just get lost exploring everything. How do you not get distracted with how beautiful it all is?”

Cora shrugged as the car made its way down the road. “I guess you get used to it? Where are you staying?”

Stiles brought up the hotel reservation and showed it to her. “Oh, you are not far from the ocean.” Cora showed the screen to the driver who nodded and turned down a side street.

Each little street was covered with small houses and buildings with little shops and restaurants. It was mid morning and people were bustling about. Stiles never wanted to leave. Finally, the car stopped in front of a large square building across from high stone walls.

“Here you are!” Cora said.

Stiles reached over to give her a hug. “Thank you for the lift. If your family drives you nuts and you need a break you know where to find me.” Stiles yanked a tumb at the building.

She nodded. As Stiles slid out of the car she grabbed his arm. “I hope your article goes well. I think it will. I haven’t known you that long but I think I trust you to be fair.”

Stiles looked at her. “I will be.” He said, confused by her.

“Good.” She nodded and the door closed.

He watched as the car pulled away before heading into the hotel.

Stiles was so tired that he had been sure that he would crash as soon as he got into his room which was a charming tiny room filled with wooden antiques and the world’s smallest shower.

But as he got settled he was so wired that he couldn’t sleep. Not to mention all the time zone jumps. Petersburg was 9 hours ahead of home so he couldn’t call his Dad, but he did send him a quick text that he arrived and was checked into his hotel.

That done he settled on the bed and pulled out the dossier. If he couldn’t sleep he would do something useful.

He spread out the contents of the folder on his bed and picked a packet that was about the royal family. He opened the cover and cursed.

“Motherfucker!” There on the side of a formal family portrait was Cora, or rather Her Royal Highness, the Princess Elizabeth Cora Brigette of the Royal House of Hale.

“Oh my god, I am an idiot!” He smacked a hand against his head. In hindsight she hadn’t even been that subtle. 

Her loving deceased father was the late King Richard. The strict mother who she never seemed to please was Talia, the now dowager Queen. The older sister who was perfect in every way was the Princess Laura Greta Anges and her sweet but shy older brother was his royal highness, Crown Prince Derek Friedrich Richard. Groomed for the family business, indeed. 

“Fuck.” He thought about all that she had shared with him and knew he couldn’t use any of it. It would be unethical and a betrayal. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t laughed herself sick on the plane and what the hell was she even doing in coach by herself?

“That’s what I get for not doing my homework.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. It would make a great story for his Dad once he got home.

He started at the other people in the photo. The King and Queen were seated in the middle and their children were arranged next to them, the Prince next to the King and two Princesses next to the Queen. The King looked kind but firm. He had large hands and wore his crown with ease. The Queen was beautiful, and poised and Stiles could see pieces of Cora in her. Laura, who never made a mistake stared at the camera with laser focus. She was smiling but there was something about her eyes that made Stiles feel that she was angry, under the surface. Cora stared at the camera chin raised as if saying come at me. Not that Stiles had known Cora long but he felt is was an accurate depiction of her. 

Derek, on the other side was standing stiffly. He wasn’t smiling but his face looked kind. Stiles could just see a hint of bunny teeth. There was something sad, in his eyes. Stiles wanted to wrap the Prince in a blanket and reassure him that all would be well. But it wouldn’t be. 

Sometime after this picture was taken the King would die and Derek would spend a year grappling with the idea of being King. He ran his hand over the image. The prince also looked familiar. There was just something about him that Stiles couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe it was because of Cora. All of the children took after their dark haired mother, none after the fair haired King.

He put the picture to the side and turned to the bios. He’d be ready for tomorrow.


	3. The Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets an unexpected invitation and shoves his foot so far down his mouth eating might be an issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are treasured and encouraging!

Part 3. The Lie. Petersburg, Beaconia. December 18th

The next morning Stiles was boarding a huge bus full of journalists. The palace had arranged transportation to the press conference. Stiles was only one of like 50 people going. He sat next to an older woman. “First time?” She asked.

Stiles turned to her. “Excuse me?”

“First time covering the royals?” He nodded. “Any advice?”

She laughed at him. “Yeah, stay out of my way.” And that was the abrupt end to that conversation. The rest of the ride was filled with awkward silence.

A little while later the bus pulled in through the palace gates and Stiles was struck by the beauty, all turrets and archways and peaked gables, it looked like Hogwarts, or like a castle out of a fairy tale. “And they actually live here?” He asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

“Only some of the time. This is the official residence, a little like Buckingham Palace but they have another residence outside the city that the family prefer and one all the way by the Danish border that they stay at during the summer months.” One of the other reporters answered. “I’m Danny.”

“Stiles, and I totally didn’t realize I said that out loud.” Stiles flushed.

“You get used to it, the formality and grandeur.” Danny said before heading inside. Stiles stayed just a beat longer to take in the courtyard, and take photos of it.

Inside was even more grand. Danny was waiting by the door. The hallway they were lead down was lined with suits of armor, paintings and great tapestries. Stiles wanted to touch everything. He was even reaching out a hand when someone cleared their voice behind him. He guiltily yanked his arm back and smiled sheepishly at man in palace livery.

“This is the portrait gallery, all the kings from the last 500 years have a painting or statue here.” Danny pointed out as they walked down the hall.

“There are wolves in every portrait.” Stiles noticed.

“You really don’t know anything about the royals, do you?” Danny chuckled.

“This is my first assignment. I only got it a couple of days agos and I spent yesterday studying the modern royals. I can tell you that Princess Laura went to Oxford and took firsts in everything and that King Richard was an avid woodworker? But then I went down a research spiral of woodworking.” Stiles mumbled.

Danny chuckled at him. “No wonder you look like a deer in headlights. The wolf is the emblem of the royal family. Legend has it that the man who would become the first Hale king, Friedrich gathered his people together to repel the Danes. He would ride from town to town, rallying the people. One night in the forest just north of here his horse broke a leg and died. He was left alone. He walked on looking for shelter when he was surrounded by wolves. Too tired to draw his sword, he lashed out, anything to keep fighting. He kept waiting for the wolves to attack but they didn’t. He later would swear that they kept him warm during the night and in the morning led him to the edge of a town, the town that would become Nordstardt now Petersburg. Who knows how much of that is true but wolves have been tied with the Hale family since.”

“That’s some story.” Stiles looked more closely at the portraits of the Hale Kings and could see that the wolves in the paintings were always protecting the king. 

They were led into a large hall with seating and a platform and podium at the front. Stiles managed to snag a spot in the middle, next to someone from the New York Times, a couple rows back from Danny. He saw his neighbor from the bus front row center. She must have elbowed her way there.

Stiles was about to make a snarky comment to the guy sitting next to him when a very well dressed man with a mustache walked out onto the stage. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, members of the press. I regret to inform you that the Crown Prince will not be able to attend this press conference due to a scheduling error. He apologizes for the inconvenience and would like to offer light refreshments as a gesture of apology.”

“Does this mean the prince is abdicating? Where is the Grand Duke Peter?” His bus seat neighbor shouted.

“There are no further comments today. For those of you who would like, refreshments will be served in the next room.” The man nodded at them and walked off the stage.

Stiles frowned. He supposed that it was within the Prince’s right to cancel but he was a bit bummed out not to have anything to send to Lydia. He let the grumbling crowd trickle into the next room and decided to go back to the gallery. He was curious, now, about the Hale Kings. He walked to the portrait of King Richard.

The late king had been painted in a military uniform standing on a parapet looking out over his city, a wolf curled around his feet. He looked every inch a royal except if you looked closely there were woodworking tools hanging off his belt with his ceremonial sword. Stiles smiled at that and moved to look at the portrait for King Peter III. He was painted on horseback, protecting his people staring down an advancing army, snarling wolves at his feet. At his back were people fleeing in boats and hiding under the ground.

“My great Grandfather was a great man.” A familiar voice startled him and he almost pitched into the painting, startled.

“You really are a hot mess.” Cora teased, steadying him.

Once Stiles was balanced he tipped forward into a small bow. “Your Royal Highness.”

Cora waved a hand at him. “Oh, please don’t start. I liked that you called me Cora.”

Stiles leaned forward. “I want you to know, I won’t ever use any of what you told me. It was all off record and I couldn’t.” He said seriously.

She smiled. “I know you won’t. Here, come on.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him through a door he hadn’t noticed before.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to leave the group.” He started to objected before quieting when she just shot him a look. She paused before another door and pulled his press pass off and tucked it in to his pocket. “You are a friend from New York and are excited to be visiting me here. We met at the library where you have a part time job and bonded over our parents.” She said to him.

“Wait, what?” He asked as she pulled him into another room.

“Cora, darling is that your friend? What did you say his name was again?” There seated on a very fancy sofa was Queen Talia.

Stiles tripped over his feet bowing and flailed a little before righting himself.

Holy shit.

“Your Majesty.” He managed, straightening up.

“This is Stiles, Mother. Stiles Stilinksi. I’d say that he’s normally more graceful than this, but that would be a lie.” 

The Queen smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you. Cora has talked of little else since arriving home yesterday. I do wish she had given us a bit more notice but I guess we should be relieved she told us at all.” Her voice was dry and facial expression serene but Cora still winced. Clearly her homecoming had been interesting. 

“Your Majesty, Thank you for having me, you have a beautiful home.” There was so little he could say that wouldn’t be a lie and he wished he had more time.

Cora lightly shoved him. “Stiles was worried about staying here even though I assured him it would be fine. He is staying at a hotel in the city. Perhaps you can tell him it’s not necessary?” Cora wheedled at her mother.

Stiles elbowed her. “No really, it’s fine. I like my hotel and I can visit Cora just fine.” He blurted out and then hastily added “Your Majesty.”

Queen Talia gestured to a couch. “It’s Your Majesty the first time and Ma’am after that. Ma’am like ham, not ma’am like farm. Cora is very taken with you and clearly you are with her, if you were willing to spend Christmas here instead of with your family.”

Stiles had been slowly lowering himself on the edge of the sofa, keeping as little of his weight on it as possible and at that he popped up, standing again, panicking.

“Ma’am, your daughter is great but I am so gay, so very very gay. Give me all the D.” He rushed out in his panic to dissuade her from thinking he had any romantic inclinations for the princess. His brain then caught up with his mouth and he flushed red with embarrassment. He had just told to the Queen of this country that to give him all the D.

“Oh my god, please don’t arrest me. I’m too young and pretty to languish in a foreign prison.” He facepalmed as he kept digging himself in. “You know what? Just point me to the chopping block. I’ll go quietly.” He kept his eyes covered.

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. All the sudden there was a great burst of laughter. Stiles peeked through his fingers to see the Queen doubled over in laughter.

He turned to Cora who was staring at her mother in shock. The queen straightened up wiping tears from her eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years. Cora, I see why you like him so.”

Stiles exhaled the breathe he didn’t realize he was holding and was about to apologize when a familiar voice spoke from the side of him.

“If we were going to have you beheaded, it would have been when you ruined my shirt, told me to buy myself a new attitude and called me an asshole.”

Stiles had been so distracted and surprised by the Queen that he hadn’t even noticed the man leaning on the window across the room. It was the asshole from the airport. He was leaning against the window arms crossed casually, light streaming in behind him. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses now and, yes, he eyes were as gorgeous as the rest of him. Stiles could also very clearly see that it was the Crown Prince, Derek.

“You.” Stiles pointed angrily. “I believe I called you an unmitigated asshole and I apologized for spilling your coffee!” He said forgetting, where he was and who was in the room. “And I even gave you ten dollars to buy a replacement, though as a prince…” His voice trailed off as he remembered where he was and who was in the room.

He closed his eyes. “I’m going to die. I am going to be executed in a European country for insulting the Royal Family and my Dad will be heartbroken.” He said voice neutral as he waited for the guards to come get him.

“If we executed everyone who insulted us, the Beaconia press corp would be decimated.” Cora said, breaking the silence.

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from rattling off the actual definition of to decimate.

“And” Cora continued. “He did steal your cab and call you a spastic baby horse.”

The Queen had been chuckling but stopped at that. “Derek.” She scolded. “How could you treat Cora’s friend like that?”

The Prince held up his hands. “I didn’t know he was Cora’s friend, but you are right.” He stood straight up.

“I, Crown Prince Derek, do formally apologize for my actions. I should have accepted your apology and I should not have called you names. I was under a tremendous amount of stress and I behaved poorly. I also apologize for stealing your cab. I didn’t want the press to know that I was back.” He did a half bow.

Stiles supposed that was fair and the prince did sound utterly sincere. “I, Stiles Stilinski, do accept your apology but also apologize for my behavior as well.” He copied Derek’s formal way of speech.

“I am sorry. I was having a rough day and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Let me make it up to you. Stay here, at the Palace.” The Prince offered and ordered.

And how could Stiles refuse that?

“Sure. It would be my pleasure.” He accepted, pushing aside that he was lying to the royal family and they probably had laws against that.

“Wonderful.” The Queen said. “Cora will take you back to the hotel, in one of our cars and you’ll join us for dinner tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stiles said and let Cora drag him out of the room.

“Oh my god.” He breathed when he was sure they were out of hearing range. “You are out of your mind!” He said to Cora.

She giggled. “Totally worth it. I have never seen my mother laugh that hard, ever. And I wanted you here. You are one of the few people who treated like a normal person. And I was pretty sure I could trust the son of a sheriff to not screw us over.”

“I can’t lie to your family! I’m sure they have laws against that?” His heart was still pounding.

“Eh, it’s only until after the coronation. We’ll figure it out. Besides, it’s a comfort to me having you here.” Cora looked away from him.

Stiles reached out and squeezed her hand. “Fine, but if I get caught you get to smuggle me out of the country.” He was only half kidding.

Cora squeezed back. “Deal.”

This was going to end terribly.

His guest room at the palace was bigger than his entire apartment. There was a sitting room with a huge TV and book shelves full of books about Beaconia. The bathroom had a tub so large he could probably lie down and be covered head to toe. There was a separate shower with four shower heads that Stiles couldn’t wait to try out.

The bedroom had a balcony that faced the palace gardens and the canopy bed was so huge four people could sleep in it without ever touching each other.

He was going to be so spoiled.

He was busy rolling around in the bed when his phone rang. It was Lydia.

“Stiles, why did I just get a call saying that you abandoned the press group and checked out of your hotel? Your answer better convince me not to fire you.”

He breathed out. “Lydia, I was going to call you. I had an incredible opportunity that I could not turn down. It turns out I was seated next to someone from the palace on the plane. We became friendly and they invited me to stay at the palace.” There that was pretty much the truth.

“Really? How serendipitous. You better have something spectacular to write about. Try to get an in depth profile. I have high expectations.” With that she hung up.

“Fuck.” He said with feeling. “What am I going to do?”

“Get ready for dinner and don’t think about it.” Cora said.

Stiles grabbed his chest. “Jesus, woman. Warn a guy.” He hadn’t even noticed her come in.

“Nah, its too much fun to see you startle like a deer.” She smirked.

“Ha freaking ha.” Stiles snarked at her. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you an exclusive on record interview. It will be fine.” Cora tried to reassure him.

“Maybe. And you are right. I have a week, I’ll come up with something.” He just had to keep it together for a week.

“Now, dinner is an informal dinner with just the family which means we don’t stand on protocol. But you should know the proper protocol for tomorrow night and the rest of the week. Because my mother is still regent she is treated as the monarch. She is seated last and when she is done eating everyone is. Also while it is informal in the private dining room, just the immediate family you should still dress nicely. Do you have a nice sweater?” She started digging through his suitcase and continuing to lecture him on protocol. 

Oh god, he was going to die.


End file.
